


Self-Sacrifice

by LibraryMage



Series: Altered Fate [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Gen, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Ezra takes the fall for something another kid in the prison did.





	Self-Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in an AU where Ezra was imprisoned along with his parents. At this point, Ezra is now 9 years old.
> 
> warning for: physical abuse of children; torture; collective punishment; and references to seclusion/isolation

Some of the other kids were shaking as they were lined up in front of the symbol scratched into the wall.  Ezra stood as still as he could manage, his arms locked at his sides, but even he flinched as the door shut behind them.

“We’re all going to stay here until we find out which of you brats did this,” the lead guard said, gesturing to the symbol on the wall.

It was a Lothali symbol, long since banned by the Empire after it had become synonymous with the resistance movement. After it had been discovered scratched into the wall of the “classroom” where kids on their cell block were given “lessons” consisting of Imperial propaganda, the guards had rounded up all the children from Lothal and brought them here, determined to find the troublemaker and make an example of them.

“Well?” the guard shouted, his voice causing some of the kids to flinch.

The guard nodded to one of the stormtroopers who stood behind the line of children.  There was a buzzing sound of an electric charge and a yelp of pain as one of the kids got a shock prod to their back.  The sound repeated as the next kid in line was shocked, and the next. They were just going to go down the line until someone confessed, and if no one did, it would only get worse.  It always got worse.

There was a fourth cry of pain and Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching into fists at his sides for a moment before he forced his eyes open again and spoke.

“I did it,” he said.  “It was me.”

Ezra didn’t resist as the lead guard grabbed him by the collar of his shapeless gray prison uniform and dragged him forward.

“Name and identification number,” the guard barked.

“Ezra Bridger.  253809.”

Ezra braced himself as he saw the guard reach for his own shock prod.  Seconds later, a current shot through his body, strong enough to knock him to the ground. The guard grabbed the back of his collar, hauling him up again before looking toward the other guards in the room.

“Continue,” he said.

The other guard with the shock prod continued down the line, pressing it against the back of each kid in turn.

“No!” Ezra cried.  “It was me!  I did it!”

“And now you’re facing the consequences,” the guard said coldly.

Ezra flinched with each scream that echoed through the room as each of the seven remaining children were shocked.  He shouldn’t have said anything.  He hadn’t even  _done_  what he’d admitted to.  He’d just wanted to stop them from hurting the others for something only one of them did.

When the screams had died down, Ezra found himself being hurled back to the floor and barely managed to angle his fall in time to stop himself from striking his head on the durasteel.

“All of you, pay attention!” the guard shouted, as if the other kids could have ignored what was happening if they wanted to. “You all know what this symbol means.  It is a sign used by traitors, a symbol of open defiance of the Empire.  And what happens to things that defy the Empire?”

Ezra lay perfectly still, as if the deadly silence in the room was weighing him down.  He knew the answer to that question.  They all did.

“They are crushed,” the guard said.

The first blow came in the form of the guard’s foot slamming into Ezra’s stomach.  Ezra tried to avoid it, pushing himself up and throwing himself to the side, but it made contact anyway, driving the air from his lungs.  The guard seized his hair and dragged him to his feet, his armored fist hitting Ezra’s stomach again before moving on to his face, striking his eye so hard that Ezra saw spots.

As Ezra doubled over, stumbling back as the guard released him, he heard that electric buzzing again and didn’t have time to brace himself as the shock prod was jabbed into his stomach once, twice, three times, four.  Ezra collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged, only to be kicked in the stomach again.

He heard a terrified cry and saw that one of the other kids, a little girl no more than six or seven, had looked away and was covering her eyes.  As Ezra watched, another stormtrooper standing behind her grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands back to her sides, not letting her look away.

“S–stop,” Ezra said, barely able to push the word out. “Please.”

The guard’s only response was a heavy, vicious punch to Ezra’s jaw before he gestured to two of the other stormtroopers, beckoning them forward.

“Take him to the punishment block,” the lead guard said.  “Level two, one week.”

Ezra struggled more on principle than anything else as the two stormtroopers grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet.  He knew it wouldn’t do him any good to fight.   If he did too much damage or actually got away, they’d just stun him.  His heart hammered as he was led out of the room.  He’d been in level one punishment before.  It was complete isolation, locked away in a dark cell, not even allowed to talk to yourself.  He’d never been on level two, and he couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be worse.  But he knew it would be.  They always knew how to make things worse.


End file.
